Third Time's the Charm
by Feirdra
Summary: Ren's first, second, and third impressions of Lyserg. Light shounen-ai.


Set during the latter part of vol. 10.  
A/N: First Shaman King fic, heh. Enjoy, ya? ^-^  
  
  
_Third Time's the Charm_  
  
-  
  
They are warriors. They have no time for childhood.  
  
  
Lyserg wasn't much, Ren decided when he got his first look at him.  
  
A thoroughly effeminate figure, and the elfin face accentuated by a hairstyle vaguely reminiscent of Tamao's certainly did not help matters. The whole complemented by a _fairy_, of all spirits and ghosts. And a _horrible_ fashion sense: the cape à la Sherlock Holmes, the ridiculously florid bow, the pom-poms... they made Ren snicker quietly and long to gouge his eyes out at the same time.  
  
It wasn't just the slender shoulders and big green eyes that figured into his calculations, however. And Ryu's goo-goo eyes were not even worth mentioning.  
  
There was something about the cheerful, childish presumptuousness; the bright smile that made it seem like he was holding his heart out in both hands, but shrinking back a little each time they reached out; the fact that he plain reeked of _weakness_, period, end of discussion.  
  
Ren had long ago decided that since he was always right, there was no need to go back and flay a dead horse. Then Yoh came along and shattered that into a million pieces, and he's still picking them up as he stumbles along.  
  
But did he really have to stumble into this poor excuse for a shaman, this boy Lyserg?  
  
  
  
Ren got his second real look at Lyserg when he was fighting his heart out.  
  
It must have been a trick of the light: one moment, he was bemusedly watching the green kid charge them, crystal and steel flickering like lightning; the next, he was seeing a dragon instead, a deadly dragon that was all sinuous grace; suddenly he was seeing _something else_, beautiful as a jade arrow, fierce as a whiplash, tender as new spring.  
  
The next instant there was only Lyserg, a single leaf clinging precariously in a dead forest of steel wire. And suddenly Ren was irrationally, infuriatingly afraid for him. It _must_ have been a trick of the light.  
  
He had a dream the night before.  
  
It was a living black and white world perpetually at war, pure and simple and never-ending. Black and white clashed in a terrible, thunderous confrontation, and melted into cool, dead gray. And from the drab concrete sprang a single new shoot, a delicate little poppy smiling bright and childlike, bringing color into the world.  
  
Sometimes a little glimpse into the future is necessary in the forging of a rightful path.  
  
The rightful path is his mission to become Shaman King. _Their_ mission: they have placed all their hopes and dreams into it, they have turned all their paths into one, and there is no room to turn aside and stray onto unbeaten pathways.  
  
At least, that's what he thought.  
  
Then he came across Lyserg, who chased a mission and a dream at the same time. It was utterly preposterous, of course. Completely impossible. But somehow, he did it anyway. He would beat Hao, and he would become the greatest private eye in the world.  
  
It never did seem to occur to him that maybe he would never beat Hao. That maybe no one could, and that in the end it would be one or the other like it always was.  
  
And now he wanted to do it alone.  
  
Here, murder and death and suicide have somehow become hopelessly entangled in a web of steel wire.  
  
Ren is outside the hospital, the glare of sun on glass in his eyes, but somehow he can still see so clearly the brilliance of Lyserg's smile.  
  
They must all be idiots, he concludes, because they're still willing to try.  
  
  
  
"And if we have had dealings with Hao as well?"  
  


It was the third time he'd looked this closely.  
  
"W-_What_ did you say...?"  
  
Ren merely turns away and smirks as he makes his way out into the street. He loves having this effect on people. "Come. Let's eat."  
  
Horohoro and Ryu are instantly and miraculously halfway down the street, hooting and leaping for the nearest restaurant like there's no tomorrow. "Ooh, yeaah!! FOOD!!!" It isn't long before they topple each other and start a fistfight in the middle of the street.  
  
Ren takes the opportunity to practice his ignoring skills and head in the opposite direction.  
  
Maybe that's why he doesn't feel the slim fingers slip into his until it's far too late, and Lyserg has inextricably twined their hands together and is swinging them along like a little child on his way to a picnic.  
  
Ren stiffens and _stops_, the sudden halt in momentum nearly tumbling Lyserg head over heels backwards onto the pavement. "... Just what do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Hmmm?" Lyserg looks at him with those big green eyes, so innocent he's almost convincing. Keyword: _almost_.  
  
Irritably, Ren squeezes his companion's fingers and wonders why he's blushing like a fool, then decides to blame that on Lyserg, too. Meanwhile, Lyserg glances down at their entwined hands in genuine surprise and blushes along with him, looking just a bit sheepish.  
  
"Ummm... You're my friend?" he tries.  
  
Ren decides to just forget about the whole thing; after all, it shouldn't have surprised him, especially since this _was_ Lyserg. The boy had already been exhibiting this... overt friendliness at their first meeting.  
  
It really isn't anything special.  
  
  
They are warriors. They have no time for childhood, happiness, or love.  
  
But sometimes, just sometimes, paths that have branched out converge once more.  
  
And sometimes, you can live a lifetime in three little words.  
  
-  
  
_end_


End file.
